Hoodie
by Bluebird722
Summary: Written for Tumblr's Jashi Week prompt Morbid Monday. AU inspired by the Hey Violet song "Hoodie." Ashi does not know how she can go on with her life after a tragedy, but a greater destiny awaits her… Rated T for sexual situations


Author's note: Sorry if I make you cry. I know I did.

* * *

It had been two days after the funeral, but life could not go on. Ashi wondered how everything could go on—adults go to their jobs, children play and go to school, people eat at least three meals a day, there were parties and dinners and banquets—without Jack present or alive. The world was meaningless, and she hated how few people seemed to care as much as she did.

She was slow to remove her sweatpants and T-shirt, the latter covered in snot and tears, and picked up his white-and-gray hoodie from the bed. He loved that hoodie, a relic of the high-school fencing team he started and thrived in, and wore it every day after changing out of his work clothes. She held the shoulder to her nose and sniffed. It still smelled of him, still had traces of his cologne—oh, it used to bother her so much, but she came to love it and buy it for him for the past two Christmases. The half-empty bottle was still at his apartment…what would have been theirs until they had enough to move into their dream house.

Technically, he owned the apartment, but she spent the night for five to six nights a week, only going back to her apartment to change or pick up clothes for work. She loved cuddling to him in bed, kissing each other to sleep, and opening her legs for them to become intimate. They would have kept on in their new house. It was perfect—between their families' houses, within a thirty-minute drive to each of their workplaces, and in a good school district. All they had to do was move everything in, get married, and move onto the next adventure.

Now she was too depressed to go to either apartment or even think of what would have been her new home, so his grief-stricken parents allowed her to stay with them for as long as her father allowed her off work. Her would-be in-laws let her sleep in his old room, but he smelled differently as a teenager; he wore a different cologne and body wash. All she had was his favorite hoodie, the hoodie that he eventually started wearing to bed every night she slept over.

The zipper that ran down the sternum, was broken, had been for years, but he never had it fixed, and she didn't intend to because it would get rid of a part of him. He never smoked, but it had cigarette burns from all those afternoons he spent chatting with friends between classes, work, and birthday drinks. She loved every hole in it because it told a different story of the friends he had. It became her favorite clothing and, after he passed, the only thing she'd wear to sleep. Once or twice, she caught herself with the strings between her teeth, a habit from childhood, and would scold herself for ruining what he left her.

He had been the perfect man for her. The day they met, both ordering milkshakes at Extra Thicc Shoppe for colleagues, they began talking and discovered how much they had in common. The line was long, and the milkshakes took almost twenty minutes to make, so they had plenty of time to discuss music, the law firm where he was a clerk, and her working alongside her father, the town veterinarian. Before she left, he handed her his number and asked her out on a date. They ended up having such a great time that on their second date, breakfast the next morning, she knew she wanted to keep seeing him.

They had been dating steadily for one year when he asked her to marry him. She agreed before he could finish his proposal. Their families were watching, their mothers weeping and their fathers clanking beers, her sisters screaming their throats sore. They spent the entire next day in bed, kissing and admiring the ring she wore.

It was so long ago, it seemed. It had only been a year ago when he proposed and less than a week ago when she lost him. He was returning home from a business trip and in time for them to plan the wedding, from the music to the reception ballroom to the guests. She had been looking at and smelling different flowers for her bouquet when his father called her in tears. The taxi driver fell asleep at the wheel and crashed into a brick bridge. Jack, then asleep at the front, was killed almost instantly.

She knew he was gone, but she would wear this hoodie every day of her life if she could. She didn't know if she could ever fall in love again, get married, have children, and grow old with someone. She lost her life the same time he did, and they could never have a life together. She pushed her face into his pillow—the same pillow he had from high school, where he rested his own head, thick with his high-school smell—and wept until his father, Sab, opened the door and hugged her, his tears dripping onto her neck.

"I loved him so much," she sobbed. "I'll never accept that he's gone, that you've lost your son."

His hand rubbing her back was gentle. "He loved you so much," he whispered, "and I knew you two were perfect for each other."

He let her cry on his shoulder for thirty minutes before she wept herself to sleep. Then he lowered her onto his son's bed, pulled the blanket over his would-be daughter-in-law's hips, and closed the door.

She dreamed about Jack. They rarely argued, but she could never watch a movie with him in peace because he was always talking about it or to it. They used to hug each other when one was vacuuming or dusting his apartment. They always cooked together and made fun of each other if the results were nothing like his parents' or as shown on Food Network. They sang to the radio together, laughing if one of them messed up the lyrics.

He'd slide into the shower behind her, either to steal a quick kiss or wash her hair for her. Rarely would those showers not lead to sex. She loved being bare in front of him, having him see her body for what it was. He loved every inch of her, and he wasn't exaggerating when he said that—freckles didn't bother him, nor did the backside she wished was firmer, and who cared that she had a bit of a pudgy stomach that made her look three-months pregnant? There was just more to love and kiss.

They made love all the time, in the living room, in the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, even the hallway. There was a fire between them, one that would not die out no matter how tired they were. They knew the other was worried that the passion would die after the wedding, but they were determined to keep it alive and full. They still talked about having as many children as possible, raising a canine, and loving each other till death do them part.

She missed his muscled arms, his broad chest, the long hair he pulled back into a low ponytail. Every time they made love, she used to let his hair down, no matter how many times he rolled his eyes, like undoing his ponytail was the only thing that aroused her. She used to braid his hair if he fell asleep first just to see his expression when he woke up. She loved hearing him whisper her name every time she kissed down his neck and shoulders before he kissed her body in return.

She missed their bodily connection, even when they woke up. He always caressed her cheek, lowered the blanket from her hips to move his hand up her curvy waist, trace the line of her hipbone. She rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone, slid her hand under his arm to touch his underarm hair, smooth her fingertip against his lips.

Ashi continued to cry in her sleep. They were just memories and dreams, but he felt too real to her.

* * *

It was three days after the funeral—the day she would have gone wedding-dress shopping with her mother, sisters, and soon-to-be mother-in-law. Yet the only thing she could think of were the luxury baths he used to give her, with the bath salts, the soothing music, the sweet body wash, the foot rubs, and the shampooing. He did that at least once a month and always wrote her a note telling her how much he loved her.

Ashi refused to look at herself as she washed her tear-stained face, for she might trick herself into thinking that Jack was right behind her like every morning, ready to shave and, as always, kiss her. Once she rinsed her skin, she looked at the three toothbrushes standing in the holder. She wanted to cry. She remembered him brushing his teeth, how he brushed quietly, always used black-and-red toothbrushes, and didn't like to spit in the sink with her around. Now she could never hear or see that again.

She prepared to clean her own teeth even though she hadn't eaten anything yet when just the thought of putting her toothbrush in her mouth and so close to her throat almost made her gag. She swallowed the urge to vomit, set down the toothbrush, and walked downstairs.

Lauren, her hair tangled, stared at her cup of tea like it was a movie while Sab set three bowls on the table.

"Glad you woke up, Ashi," he told her as she sat down. "This may not be perfect, but I made oatmeal, the way he always ate it, with brown sugar, strawberries, bananas—"

Suddenly, the sight of the food made her feel sick again. Not only did he continue to eat like that, but she couldn't imagine stomaching food anymore. She ran from the kitchen and into the nearest bathroom.

Lauren lifted her head when she heard vomiting. "Is she okay?" Sab asked as he slowly sat down in his usual seat. "What did she eat last night?"

"The usual," Lauren said quietly. "Nothing."

She filled a glass with cold water to give to Ashi, who did not leave for twenty minutes. She rinsed her mouth, drank the water, and quietly excused herself to take a nap, leaving only to blow her nose with toilet paper and wolf down the chicken wings Sab made for lunch. Then she scrubbed her teeth and went to bed with the same heavy heart. When she would get sick, Jack used to call in sick as well so he could secretly nurse her back to health and keep her company. He cooked for her, helped her bathe, rubbed her back, bought her tissues, and washed her dirty clothes and sheets for her. She would do the same for when he fell ill.

Still, Ashi thought it was unusual for her to vomit, especially when she rarely ate anything, and she wondered if this was some kind of stress reaction…

* * *

Four days passed, but Ashi woke up every day feeling sick. She had been nauseated since she lost her true love, but she wasn't vomiting until after the funeral. When Sab called her parents on the third day, they asked if she ate anything in the morning, but Sab said no, not yet. Her father asked his wife if this was a stress reaction to the loss, but she said no, for Ashi never threw up when stressed. Sab hung up with worry in his heart that he might have to have his son's soulmate hospitalized.

It was the day she, her sisters, Jack, and their parents were supposed to have their cake tasting. Ashi woke up too sick to eat and almost immediately had her face in the wastebasket. Her head hurt, and she noticed that her breasts felt extremely tender under the hoodie. Feeling weird, she carefully cupped one and winced when it gave her mild pain.

Bile soared up her throat again, and she woke Jack's parents, who were reluctant to leave their bed, and Lauren entered the bedroom within seconds. Her head had come up with such a simple question that she could not yet bring her lips to say. It wasn't until they reached the bathroom, her hand rubbing the younger woman's back, that she had the courage to ask: "Did you and my son, you know, have sex a lot before he died?"

Ashi spat into the toilet and moaned. "Of course we were. Hate to sound rude, but almost every night—" She lurched again, and Lauren stood up. She called for Sab to keep an eye on Ashi while she ran a quick errand.

"Where are you going?" he asked, but she had vanished after grabbing her keys and wallet. He sat on the edge of the tub and carefully caressed Ashi's back for five minutes until she slumped against the wall, chin coated in vomit. He wiped it off with toilet paper and helped her rinse her mouth. "Let me get you a glass from the kitchen," he said. "Keep yourself hydrated, and then we'll get you something to eat, okay?"

Her heart pounding, though keeping her excitement low, Lauren drove to the nearest convenience store and came back with a small box. Sab's eyes widen when he saw through the plastic bag. "You're serious?"

"Obvious symptoms," she said as he carried the empty water glass to the sink. "Plus, her mother said she herself went through this every time she was…you know." Before she went upstairs, she froze. "She didn't eat or drink anything yet, right?"

"Not yet," he said. "I was going to give her ice water."

Sab hurried to his bedroom to make the bed and change clothes, hoping it would take his mind off what was happening to Ashi. He didn't know whether to feel excited or nervous. He remembered the excitement he felt when his own wife was doing the same thing, but he didn't know if he could feel the same with his late son's fiancée being the one in the bathroom.

Ashi, still in the bathroom and trying not to vomit, paled when she could what was in the bag, but she took it with shaky hands. "You don't think—"

"It's worth a try," Lauren said.

Ashi gulped. "Can you, you know, stay here while I do it? I don't want to be alone."

Lauren smiled softly, nodded, and put her hand on Ashi's knee. "Of course I will."

She read aloud the instructions while a red-faced Ashi prepared herself and closed her eyes. "I can't do it. I can't make myself—"

"This always helped me when I was taking the test," Lauren said as she turned on the shower, which also allowed her to rinse out the dirty wastebasket. Ashi blushed deeper when it worked, but she kept looking at the stopwatch in her hand. "One, two, three, four, five, six—"

Lauren turned off the shower. "And then put the cap on and set it down on a flat surface."

Ashi obeyed, set it on the counter, and was quick to wipe herself, pull up her underwear and sweatpants, and wash her hands. She flushed the toilet with her elbow and stared at the stopwatch, counting down to twenty seconds. "If—If it's—"

"Then we'll help you take care of it, if you choose to keep it," Lauren said. "If not, if you don't want to raise it, we understand." She squeezed Ashi's knee, and the younger woman knew in her heart what Lauren was afraid of. Even though it would be easier to keep it out of her life, she new Lauren was afraid of losing another member of her family. "Don't worry. You've been part of our family since before he asked you to marry him."

"I wonder what Mom and Dad are going to say," she whispered worridley. "I know my dad was always 'sex is for after marriage,' and my mom's going to give me hell about not using protection…"

Lauren didn't say anything, but Ashi felt like a fool admitting that the woman's own son was not "careful." Then she wondered if Ashi would have been happy getting married while pregnant. Kind of a weird thing to want to wear a white gown then, with a baby bump underneath, she thought.

Outside, Sab knocked on the bathroom door. "May I come in, brush my teeth?" he asked. Lauren opened the door for him, and the first thing he saw was the test. He suddenly burst into tears and pulled Ashi into his arms.

"What's wrong?" she asked as Lauren stood up. "Are you okay?"

He looked over her head, and she did the same to look at two tiny lines.


End file.
